A First Dance in an Olympic Stadium.

This year the Olympic Games will take place in London but in 1992 they took place in Barcelona.

So I guess that means that I will dance for the first time in the London Olympic stadium in about 2032, and I’ll be well into my seventies.

I wonder if I’ll make it?

On Friday evening in Barcelona there were many thousands of us dancing so no one really noticed my eccentric wobbling that passes as such.

Where does something begin?

The day the UPS truck arrived in the meadow with tickets in an envelope from Spain? Or when I dysfunctionally met my family in a shopping centre car park on the edge of Toulouse?

Let’s choose the car park; it’s a random point but it avoids having to talk about the post UPS months when I thought about it very little - or reliving the moments and moments of waiting pre-car park whilst my son tried to locate the bag he had forgotten and left on the train.

With all his clothes.

Did he look dressed suitably for a weekend away and possible inclement weather?

Does a pig fly?

So we left the shopping centre two hours later than expected and joined a stream of traffic heading into the night of a long, ascension weekend.

The rain started pretty soon after that, the night fell, we grew tired and slowly my grumps eased.

We could fast forward but then I shouldn’t have started in the car park.

Instead i could have started as we walked into the hotel in Girona, or as we woke to a new day, blue skies and a city to explore.

Then I could begin with a moment of freedom whilst just two of us set off into the labrynth of streets.

But then I would have to recount my disappointment when one of the two turned around and said, no, we should wait for them.

And then I would have to detail…

No, let’s not go there….

So let’s begin instead in the restaurant the night before, when, a little drunk we became four friends eating, dining and playing a game where among other things I learnt that the toilets in the local high school has a list of the different types of pooh a student has to cope with and they discovered why I smashed a hole in the kitchen door.

Good food though!

What has any of this got to do with Bruce Springsteen?

Very little I guess so lets start with the set list.

Here it is.

Opening song – Night.

Closing song – Tenth Avenue Freeze Out.

In between three hours of committed and passionate voice, accomplished and sometimes haunting brass, surprising violin, wonderful piano, sensuous sax and crashing guitars.

Crashing guitars.

And me wobble dancing.